


1 A.M. Rendezvous

by braddocks



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: ColdFlash AU, M/M, coldflash - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-15
Updated: 2015-06-15
Packaged: 2018-04-04 12:34:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4137771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/braddocks/pseuds/braddocks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Barry decides to do a little last minute grocery shopping at 1 a.m.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1 A.M. Rendezvous

**Author's Note:**

> TITLE: 1 A.M. Rendezvous  
> PAIRING: ColdFlash AU  
> NOTES: This was written for and inspired by coldflashtrash's headcanons on Tumblr. I bow to them all!

It wasn’t like it was becoming a thing. No, Barry had only forgotten his shopping one other time, and if he had to rush to the store to get milk at 1 in the morning… Well, who was to blame him? He had to have milk for Joe’s coffee in the morning. He didn’t want to disappoint Joe, and if Joe was cranky, chances were that Barry would be, too. It would make for a long day at the PD and with #TeamFlash. So he was doing them all a favor.

Really, and it absolutely had nothing to do with hoping to catch the eye of that guy he had seen there the last time. They hadn’t even exchanged a word, but Barry had caught his eye, and he’d gotten a very blatant once over. It had made Barry shiver and he’d opened his mouth to say something, but the guy (the really attractive and sexy guy) turned the aisle, a smirk thrown over his shoulder, and Barry had just stood there dumbly, watching as he’d walked away. By the time he’d come to his senses, he was paying, and Barry had lost his chance.

But here he was, back at the store, at 1 am and a week later, and hoping to see him again. Barry doubted that he would. What would be the chances of it? Barry hadn’t been able to get the other man’s smirk out of his head all week. He’d made up all kinds of stories about why he’d been there at 1 am. A businessman, just getting back into town. Another hero, just like Barry was, and finishing up with both day and night jobs, ready to head back home after grabbing a quick grocery run. Or maybe he was just a night owl. There were so many other ideas and Barry desperately wanted to know which one was the truth. Maybe he was a spy, or with the FBI, or _the bad guy_ of the day.

“Well, well, well…”

Barry jumped, startled from the silence he had been drifting down the juice and soda aisle in. He froze when he realized who the voice belonged to. _It was him._ What were the odds?

“Oh, hey,” Barry managed to squeak out. It was barely a hair away from a stammer, and since when did speaking to another (sexy, hot) man bring him down to his thirteen year old giggling self? That was nearly ten years ago, not yesterday; despite what the precinct liked to jab at him. He quickly turned back to his cart, hoping that he didn’t look as stupid as he probably did.

“Fancy seeing you here again,” the man drawled, and Barry swallowed. Just listening to him was enough to make him forget how to speak. Barry didn’t look at him.

“Yeah, I do all my shopping late at night,” Barry lied, shrugging, and finally turning to really look at him. Barry allowed himself a brief second of sizing him over. He might have cheated and used his super speed. What he didn’t know didn’t hurt him. Right?

“It is much cooler in here right now,” the man allowed, nodding. His lips curled into a smile, and not the smirk that Barry was used to already seeing. “Less of a chilly atmosphere when all the soccer moms are in bed.”

“Yeah, ha. They are the worst. So judgmental,” Barry agreed readily. It was nice to see someone who agreed with him on that. Iris told him he wasn’t allowed to voice his opinion on the matter. Not when her daughter’s assistant coach, Patty Spivot, was Barry’s ex-girlfriend.

“Oh, do you have experience with them?” He was looking at Barry curiously, calculating. “Now that I’m thinking about it, you look familiar.”

“I do?” Barry blinked, confused. Because he was pretty sure he’d never seen this man before last week in the grocery store. “My best friend’s daughter plays on the Central City Chameleons, the 5-6 year olds tee-ball team. Maybe you’ve seen me at practice or a game? I never miss one.”

The man squinted, then his eyes widened, “Oh, now I recognize you. You’re that idiot who got thrown out of the game because you didn’t appreciate the assistant coach’s calls. _Your own assistant coach’s calls._ ”

Barry flushed a dark red, ducking his head in embarrassment. Of course, the (attractive) guy had seen that moment. It had not been one of Barry’s finer moments, but Patty’s calls had been ridiculous that day. Not only Rina being called out, but Michael Snart? Both two of the team’s best players. They were only six. Adults shouldn’t be taking the game this literally, not yet. There would be plenty of times, years from now, when they’d have to accept the uncalled-for play. Now wasn’t the time.

“ _She_ was being the idiot. She unfairly called the team out all game, especially Rina West-Thawne and Michael Snart.” Barry crossed his arms over his chest. The injustice of that day, which was actually only a few weeks ago, still made Barry mad. “I mean, who calls out six year olds? Just because they are struggling with hitting the ball? Fouls and strikes are two different things. Besides, shouldn’t they be allowed to have fun now? Competition will come too quick in the sport as they go higher in skill. Let them learn how to play instead of just kicking them out.” Barry paused, clamping his mouth firmly shut. He rambled when he was embarrassed or passionate about a topic. Lamely, he shrugged and added, “I was just doing what anyone should have done.”

“You’re right,” he agreed, grandly, and he stuck out his hand. Barry stared at it dumbly. “I never got to thank you. I missed that following practice, so I never got to tell you thank you for sticking up for my son.”

“Son…?” Barry asked, faintly, as he took the offered hand.

The man’s lips were a mix between a smirk and a smile. “Let me introduce myself to you. Leonard Snart, Michael’s father.”

Oh. Barry just stared back at him. Well. Looks like grocery shopping just became a whole lot more interesting.


End file.
